


Leaving Inuzuri

by sillythings



Category: Bleach, renji abarai - Fandom, renruki - Fandom, rukia kuchiki - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 02:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillythings/pseuds/sillythings
Summary: I just found Bleach, and now I am obsessed with Renji and Rukia.I have not read the entire manga, so forgive anything that is out of character.  This is just a short little one-shot for Rukia's birthday.  I think Renji's feelings are so very clear for Rukia, but she is a little harder to read.  So, I tried to explore some of her feelings for Renji here.





	Leaving Inuzuri

As a child, Rukia had hated sleeping in the squalid shacks, surrounded by so many other lost children, fighting for a place away from the drafts and sleeping with one eye open to make sure their ragged blankets would not be stolen by the bigger kids or wandering adult.  Once she had joined Renji and their other friends, it was better -- safer and warmer. They slept in a tangled pile, huddling their bodies close for warmth and safety. Renji -- it was his warmth she missed more than the others. More often than not, he positioned himself between her and their other friends.  However much she loved their other friends in the day, at night, she belonged to the fierce boy who spent his days fighting and scheming to keep them all fed and safe. At night, he was allowed the gentle, brief pleasure of being held in her arms, a respite from his day’s labor.

 

Renji usually slept curled around her, his chin resting on top of her head or sometimes, more rarely, nuzzled into her neck, his breath a whisper of warmth on her skin.  When she was younger, it often annoyed her and Renji would be woken up with a start, a boney elbow in his stomach.

 

“Roll over!” she would hiss, “you’re breathing on me!”  

 

He would turn with an angry mutter or a baleful glare, before falling back into a fitful sleep.  None of them slept well, but together they slept far better than they would alone. Before long, she would feel a chill on her back and regret her impulsive anger, hoping, but too prideful to wake him and ask, that he would turn back to her before the morning came.

As they grew older, his breath roused not irritation, but another feeling which frightened her as much as it excited her.  With his long legs wrapped around her own and his lips puffing out warm, sleepy exhalations near her ear, a dull ache formed low in her belly, far different from the hunger pains or cramps she had known before.  She understood those aches, knew what to do to find relief. This hunger was something altogether new.

 

Renji had grown so tall, so suddenly.  He had soon stood over a head taller than her, a fact that had a similar effect on her as his close breath on her neck.  It annoyed her as much as it warmed her. He had become a man, a very good looking one in fact, and who did he think he was, looking so adult, being so strong while she was still so short, so weak compared to his new growth?   _Damn him anyway_. That difference between them infuriated her even as it she found a new excitement in seeing the delicacy of her small hand in his large one as he helped her scramble over a wall or enjoyed the press of his muscular thigh against her own when the sat on the riverbank, feet in the water, planning their next raid on the merchants’ wares.  

 

He even smelled different than before. If she were uncharitable, she would push him away and tell him to his face that he smelled like a sweaty boar.  At those times, his face would show a flash of embarrassment, that sweet vulnerability around his eyes, before he recovered his arrogant mask with a blink.  More often than not, he would make a rude gesture at her or tell her she was probably smelling her own ass, which, honestly, was fair. It was not as if she had perfumed soaps and oils at her disposal either.  If she were in a different frame of mind, however, she would hold her tongue and take the opportunity to breath deep his new, primal musk and ache in a way she dared not consider.

 

In their precarious situation, it was best not to give any hint of such stirrings.  To acknowledge them or explore them was playing a very dangerous game in a place where there was no lack of danger.  Though Rukia both resented and admired Renji’s new growth, she was smart enough to know that she should not reveal herself.  

 

Rukia never did have the voluptuous beauty that some girls did, a fact she blessed and cursed in the same breath.  Girls unfortunate enough to have beauty did not last long in the streets of Inuzuri. They found patrons if they were lucky, pimps if they were not.  No, it would not do to let anyone know that she was no longer a child or that her admiration of her friend was less platonic than one might think.

 

So, almost without thinking about it, Rukia had clamped down on her stirrings, stoically ignoring any spark of warmth kindled by the sight of Renji’s muscular forearm as he reached out to stir their cookfire or his lopsided smile of triumph when he held out a roasted fish to her at dinner, proud of his ability to provide.  When their friends were around, especially at night, it was easier to tamp down such sparks. Surrounded by dirty, sweaty boys who quaked with night terrors made it easier to ignore the good feeling of Renji’s warm hand curved around her middle or his broad back resting against her own. When the snow blew through the cracks of their shack or rain dripped down from holes in the roof, the warmth between her thighs was practically nonexistent.  Anyway, as her spiritual power grew, it was hard to feel anything other than hunger pangs most nights.

 

Rarely, Rukia allowed herself to consider how Renji’s feelings.  Did he feel such stirrings himself during those nights or did the sheer will to survive take up all his energies?  The other boys did not ever come close to treating her with anything other than respect. They loved and admired her, but she doubted it would have crossed their minds to think of her as more than a sister.  Besides, Renji would have killed them, and they knew it, if they had done anything to make her feel unsafe. And Renji himself? What did he feel besides anger and a desperate need to conquer everyone before they conquered him and his friends?  Rukia often wondered at herself for being able to give a passing thought to such urges. Hunger and fear were the primal emotions that occupied their world. There was little left for anything else.

 

Then, their friends died.  One by one, the other boys left them.  One was beaten to death -- running afoul a rough group who had set up camp around their usual fire pit.  Had he argued with them or simply asked for room for his friends to sit? They never knew. By the time Renji, Rukia and the others arrived, they found the murderers drunk and laughing by the fire while their friend bled to death in the shadows just beyond the flames.

 

The others sickened and died not much long after that.  One was taken by a fever that left him blue and shaking even as he burned.  The last of their friends died from a cut on his foot that had grown red and swollen.   He died screaming.

For a while, Renji and Rukia’s nights were spent nursing the sick and offering comfort to the dying.  Rukia gave no thought to Renji’s arms or muscles. The only ache she felt was deep in her heart. When the last grave was dug, they spent their nights huddled together, silent tears running down their cheeks.  Renji’s large hands stroked down her back did not elicit those dangerous feelings, at least not then, not while she was still so wrapped in her own despair. His own ragged breathing spoke of his struggle to control his weeping, not of any untamed desire for her skinny body.

 

Later though, after the last of their friends has been buried, after the pain was less raw, they began to consider leaving Inuzuri in earnest. They would lie awake at night, wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering to each other about what they would find in the Seireitei.  Just how did one join the Academy? They knew it was possible, had seen one of the local residents in the Shinigami uniform and been treated kindly by him. They had a shared goal, and they threw themselves into the work of achieving it.

 

Now their days belonged to only them, and they made their plans for a new life in the open sunshine.  Such scheming did not need to be confined to the secretive whispers they shared before they slept, but the nights were different now.  They were colder for sure, with just she and Renji huddled together in their makeshift shack. Without the other boys, it felt lonely and drafty.  Besides that though, there was a new tension between them. Lying down next to each other had once been as natural as breathing, but now they shot furtive glances at each other before affecting an uncaring stance and stretching out to sleep.  Neither one acknowledged it, but they talked deep into the night, trying to alleviate the strangeness between them, talking until they dropped off, too exhausted to keep their eyes open...or to do anything else.

 

During the day, not much had changed between them as they went about the business of survival, but at night, Renji’s eyes seemed to rest heavier on her.  The weight of his gaze made the dull pressure in her belly heavier and hotter than before. Some nights the heat of his gaze made her feel like she would shudder and fall into pieces, weak and helpless under his sharp eyes, so she would turn on him irritably.

 

“What are you lookin’ at?” she would snarl, and he would drop his eyes, color rising to his cheeks.  Her triumph at dominating him was short-lived, and she would spend the rest of the night thinking about those eyes roving her face, her hair, her body...

 

It was not fair to him and she knew it. Her own eyes often wandered when he stretched out and closed his eyes, his tunic hitching up and revealing a stretch of taut stomach.  It was ridiculous the effect it had on her. It was not like she had never seen his stomach before. She had certainly punched him and kicked him there. She had tickled him during wrestling matches.  She had once even rubbed his stomach when he was ill, trying to give small comfort after he had spent the day retching. The memory of her fingers on him, the palms sliding over his skin, would come back to her in a confusing flood of emotion, and the ache that throbbed within her would be worse than before.  

 

Rukia knew Renji too was struggling with this new tension.  When she snuggled into him at night, seeking his warmth, all too often his breath would hitch and he would turn, offering his back to her -- which was fine, really.  She sometimes preferred sleeping back to back, but now that he avoided holding her, she found herself missing his warmth and his smell enveloping her, his lips at her ear or her cheek.  Rukia knew something would have to give, and soon, but for now, she lay next to Renji and yearned for something she understood in but the crudest terms. She was a child of the streets, and she was not naive to such things, but this unspoken tension between her and Renji was sweeter and somehow more sacred than anything she had ever glimpsed or heard of in the wretched alleys and dark corners of Inuzuri.  

 

And then, in early spring, their final night in squalor arrived.  Their plans had been made, and they would be leaving for the Seireitei at daybreak.  They were settling down to sleep, spreading the rags they called their bed over a small mound of dank straw when a sickening blend of anticipation and fear clouded Rukia’s thoughts and made her heart pound.  She sat down hard, cross-legged on the straw and took a deep shaking breath. Renji saw her blanch and reached out a steadying hand on her shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, kneeling before her.  She did not answer, letting her head hang for a moment, trying to fight down the dizziness.  Rukia felt Renji petting her hair with a hand that was honestly, just ridiculously big. He just kept getting bigger and bigger despite never having a full belly or enough to drink.  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

 

She was always hungry now it seemed, but she shook her head again.

 

“You’re not feeling sick?” he gave her an appraising look.  “It would be just our luck to get sick right before we leave this shitty place--”  He pressed his hand to her forehead, trying to gauge whether she had a temperature.

 

“I’m not sick,” she interrupted him.  “I was just thinking about leaving,” she said, trying to control the tremble in her voice.  “Just a little...nervous, I guess.”

 

“You gonna miss all this?” he joked, making an expansive gesture to encompass their squalid hovel.  It was nearly empty, but for the straw and rags and their few meager possessions. How could one miss nothing at all, because that is all they had.  

 

Nothing.  

 

Nothing except each other.

 

She leaned forward, pressing her face into his broad chest, and huffed out an indignant snort.  

 

“No,” she mumbled into the front of his ragged tunic.  He smelled like sunshine and rain and his own manly scent.  She inhaled deeply and let out a trembling breath.

 

“Then, what’s wrong, stupid?” The words were harsh, but his tone was not.

 

He brought a hand beneath her chin, and she tilted her head up to meet his brown eyes, narrowed with concern.  She took another breath and held his gaze.

 

“Of course I won’t miss any of this,” Rukia said bitterly.  “I hate it here. I hate being dirty and hungry. I hate the people,” she hesitated, “but…”

 

“But what?  There are no buts…” Renji scoffed.  “Don’t be an idiot. Tomorrow our lives will change forever and for the better!” He exclaimed with grand bravado.  He clenched one fist and nodded his head firmly. She envied his confidence.

 

“I know all that, fool,” she snapped back and then sighed.  Rukia leaned her face into his palm and looked at him with pleading eyes.  She could just see his scornful expression in the moonlight that filtered in through the slats of the walls.  

 

“Aren’t you scared at all?” she asked him, reaching up to hold his hand on her cheek and closing her eyes.  “Scared of what is behind those walls? What if they don’t let us in? What if it’s worse in some way?”

 

She felt foolish under his sneer.  It had been her idea to leave, afterall.  After all the work and scheming they had done to obtain travel permits and gather enough resources to make the journey to the academy, she was the coward.

 

She hated herself for being so weak before him, knowing that he ought hate her for it too.  The weak did not survive in Inuzuri. That was the very first lesson they all learned.

 

He reared back his head, opening his mouth to make a harsh retort,  she was sure of it, when he caught himself. She felt his fingers twitch against her cheek, and when she opened her eyes again, he was looking down at her with a pure, unguarded look.  There was no trace of his usual arrogance. Renji gazed at her solemnly and again his fingers grazed her skin. The familiar dull ache suddenly flared, and she caught her breath.

  


“I am more afraid of staying than of going,” he told her after a long pause.  Moonlight glinted in his eyes, shiny and bright. “Losing the others…that was bad, but I don’t…,” he stopped and closed his eyes.  It took him a moment to regain himself, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. “I couldn’t bear...I mean...why risk losing you too...when we have a chance of living better?”  

 

Rukia held her breath.  He stared at her a long moment, that open look still on his face. Then, the hand on her chin dropped, and he turned quickly to settle down to bed, trying to find a comfortable position on the pile of rags and straw, leaving Rukia to stare after him with wide eyes, and a pounding heart.   

 

He lay on his side facing her with his eyes closed, and so she lay down beside him, hoping he would continue talking to her.  She could not bear it if he fell asleep and left her alone with her thoughts on this night of all nights. She watched his forehead knot and his eyes move behind his closed lids.  How handsome he had become. He had lost long ago the youthful roundness in his cheeks, and his face was long and lean -- fierce -- she knew how fierce he could be, but at this moment, there was a softness about his mouth, and she felt a sweet tender pang as she watched him debating with himself whether he would speak  his mind or not.

 

“Of course, I’m scared, you idiot,” he said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.  “I’m scared every day, but tomorrow…” he laughed, a bitter, choked off sound, “yeah, tomorrow scares the hell out of me.  It’s so much easier not to want something. As soon as you want something, it means it’s good enough for someone to take it away from you.”  

 

He reached out a hand, and she took it in both of her own and brought it to her chest, close to her beating heart.  She understood exactly how he felt. She felt like she had just discovered she had something she wanted, and she was not sure she was going to be able to keep it when they left.

 

Renji’s brows knit together and he frowned.

 

“And now is when you are supposed to call me a dumbass and tell _me_ to stop being a fool,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth, “just as I said to you.”

 

Rukia wiggled closer to him, not knowing what to say, but wanting to give comfort, wanting him to comfort her.  He sighed when he felt her snuggled into his chest and he let go of her hand to bring an arm up to embrace her.

 

“Well?” he asked.  “Don’t hold back. You never have before.”

 

She smiled.  That was true enough, but she just could not find the words in her to insult him, to push him.  He did not need anyone kicking his ass right now. His worried brow and pouting lips told her that he needed something softer.  As tough as Rukia could be on him, she instinctively knew that it was the wrong time to be harsh. So making a decision, Rukia brought her face right up to his, her mouth so close to that mocking smile that they shared a breath between them.  

 

“But I don’t think you are a dumbass,” she whispered against his lips with no hint of the usual teasing that colored so many of their interactions.  

 

His eyes narrowed.

 

“Wha--?” It was almost silent, this expression of surprise, his lips barely moving, so close to her own.  He puffed out a breath that she felt on her lips. Rukia held his gaze, a throb in her heart and an answering throb low, low in her belly.   His eyes briefly darted to the side. He was looking for danger, as he did when he was preparing to raid a merchant’s stall or when he was walking an unknown street.  Rukia knew logically that there was no real and present danger here in their hut, but all the same, she understood. The air was heavy. She felt like she was about to make a very desperate decision.

 

All was silent as they breathed together, in and out.

 

“I said, I don’t think you are a dumbass,” Rukia smiled at him, and an odd confidence flared in her at the sight of his discomposure, “and I lied before.”

 

“What?” he whispered again, eye to eye, mouth to mouth with her.  Renji appeared to have no other words.

 

“I will miss _this_ ,” she whispered, raising her arms to rest her palms on his shoulders, pressing herself full long against him, “this part, at least.”  He reached down to grip her waist -- to push her back or pull her closer she could not tell at first. His long fingers kneaded into the loose cloth of her yukata, fists working at her hips.  

 

She held her face up to him in the moonlight, boldly holding his incredulous stare.  He was wary of her, knew that she was just as likely to throw an elbow or knee him in the guts if he crossed her, but she was pliable and warm in his arms, and she willed him to understand what she could not quite say aloud.  The only good thing left in her life was him, but even before the others died, he was always first in her heart. If they stayed, it was only a matter of time before one of them died brutally from sickness or worse, but if they left, there was no way of guaranteeing that they would stay so close.  He was her best friend. He knew her secrets, knew her for everything that she was, and she loved him. Before it all changed, she wanted him to know.

 

She did not say it, though.  Maybe she should have, but life in the streets had taught them to bury such sentiment.  Friendship was good. Keeping the gang loyal and together meant survival. Love complicated matters.  Romance tore things apart. When Renji sometimes caught the other boys giving her lovestruck gazes or offering her wildflowers, he would knock them off their feet or thump them as hard as only he could hit.  There was not going to be any of that kind of nonsense in their little family -- at least not from them. Share and share alike. All were equal.

 

Except that they were not.

 

And Renji and Rukia had always known it.

 

Renji studied her cautiously a moment more before he made a soft little grunt in the back of his throat.  Keeping his eyes locked on hers, still expecting a punch to the throat perhaps, he dipped his head, such a slight movement, to brush her lips with his own.  She breathed out a small sigh into his mouth and felt the ache inside of her kindle into something far more insistent.

 

One huge hand came up behind her head, while his other rested on the small of her back, pulling her closer. His lips moved over hers, coaxing her mouth open and she soon felt the electric thrill of his tongue meeting hers.  

 

They had played at kisses before, carefully hidden from the other boys, shameless hypocrites to their oath that there would be no lovey-dovey nonsense among their gang.  It did not happen often, no more than a handful of times had they ever found themselves alone, safe and so inclined. They made a competition of it, to see who would get embarrassed first and call a stop to it.   Such games often ended with Renji blushing and turning from her quickly while she made fun of him for being so timid and declaring herself the winner in this strange game of passion and wills.

 

This time though, Renji did not turn away, and Rukia found that she was the one blushing, excited and embarrassed at the same time.   As exciting as those stolen moments had been, those kisses had never been anything like this, with teeth and tongues. Where Renji had been tentative before in their games, now he was far more bold.  She gladly surrendered to the hard press of his mouth on her own, his warm tongue slipping inside to taste her. Their legs became entangled, and his long, muscular thigh came up between her own legs.  Without thinking, she pressed herself against him in an attempt to alleviate the burning ache that had blazed up hotter than she had thought possible.

 

When Renji felt her softness against his leg, he kissed her deeper, the hand at her back clutching her robe with frantic fingers. Rukia slowly became aware of a hard heat against her belly, evidence of his own desire.  She pressed herself closer, wondering at the feel of it, wondering if he burned and ached as fiercely as she did. His hand at her back dropped lower, gliding up her thigh, under her loose robe before grasping her backside, kneading the soft flesh he found there, pulling her closer still, his heat between them, her heat against his leg.  This is what she had been looking for. This is what she needed to soothe the ache. Involuntarily, a low moan escaped her lips and he suddenly drew back with a panting gasp.

 

“Oh…” he breathed heavily.  Renji stared at her with hooded eyes, an unreadable expression in their brown depths.  He brushed his lips against hers, very gently, very different from the kisses they had been exchanging just a moment before.  He swallowed hard and moved his legs, slowly disentangling himself from her. Everything inside of her protested this movement.  She clutched at his shoulders trying to still him.

 

“Oh,” he said again, almost to himself, “this isn’t right.”  The hand that had been so beautifully squeezing her bottom came up and gripped her shoulder hard.  “This isn’t right.” He dipped his head to look her right in the eye.

 

“Sorry...I’m so sorry,” he told her.  She gaped at him in bewilderment.

 

“What for, stupid?” she demanded.  What was wrong with the fool? He had done nothing wrong that she could see.  In fact, he was doing everything right.

 

He gave a bitter laugh.  “So close to escaping, and look at what I do to you. Damn me for being the filthy dog, I am.”  He looked at her levelly, his chest still heaving.

 

“Stop it,” she hissed at him, angry at him for stopping.  Angry that he should call himself such terrible things. “Don’t say that.”

 

“Say what?” he sighed.  “The truth?” He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling, still breathing heavily.  She felt cold and empty where before she had felt deliciously warm. Surely he could not be so unmoved.  Rukia glanced down and saw that the bulge in his tunic was still there. No, he was still as eager as she, at least part of him was.  She laid one tentative hand at his hip. He groaned low and grabbed her hand, staying its movement.

 

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.  “I could so easily take you here in the filth and the dirt.”  He looked at her, a pleading, vulnerable expression back in his eyes.  “I want to. What kind of a man does that?”

 

Rukia tried to ignore the flare of desire that blazed up when he spoke of taking her.  If only he would. She could face a thousand tomorrows if she knew she was his and he was hers.  

 

She moved her hand from his hip to his hair and stroked it back from his forehead, trying to smooth out the knot she found there.

 

“Oh, Renji,” she sighed.  He looked so hurt, so like the little boy he was when she first met him.  It was not right that he looked so ashamed.

 

“Renji, I’m not upset, not at all.  In fact, I --” she began to speak, to say what she didn’t know when he lifted up his hand to place his fingers at her lips.

 

“Let’s go to sleep,” he said.  “We have a long journey ahead of us.”  He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.  

 

“I’m sorry,” he said and closed his eyes.

 

She glared down at him for a long moment, waiting for him to open his eyes and come to his senses.  He did not. He lay very tense and very still.

 

“How the hell am I supposed to go to sleep after that?” she hissed at him, again close to his face.

 

“What?” he asked again.  He still kept his eyes closed.  The coward.

 

“What? What?” she mocked.  “I said, how the hell am I supposed to go to sleep after all that?”  She turned angrily, presenting her back to him in a huff.

 

She was furious.  Furious with him for setting her on fire and refusing to soothe the burn.  Furious with herself for losing her carefully maintained control, and worst of all, she was furious that he was right.  She did not want to be like some animal rutting in the dirt, but when would they have another opportunity to be with each other like this.  Their journey could be dangerous, out on the open road. They would be fools to indulge themselves when they needed their wits about them. After they reached the inner society -- what then? Surely, they would not be allowed to room together at the academy.  Surely, the Seireitei had more civilized rules. How was she supposed to cope when she had such uncivilized desires? How could she cope if she could not be with him each day and lay down with him each night? If this was their last night together, how could he refuse her?

 

She could feel him staring at her back and then felt a tentative hand touch her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t upset,” he whispered indignantly into her ear.

 

“I’m not upset you did any of it,” she hissed back over her shoulder.  “I’m upset you stopped.”

 

“What?” he whispered.

 

“Say what again, dumbass,” she growled at him.  She held herself stiffly, feeling his gaze rest heavy on her but resolutely refusing to look at him.

 

“Oh, Rukia,” he sighed softly.  He sounded so defeated and her hardened heart suffered a twinge to see this bold, laughing young man stripped of his swagger.  He gently wrapped a large hand around her waist, curling his body around her, carefully avoiding pressing too close, his hips angled out stiffly.

 

“I know you are right, okay?” She told him once he had settled himself behind her.

 

“There’s a first,” he whispered into her ear.  “You usually like to tell me how wrong I am.”

 

“You usually are,” she said and pulled the hand on her waist until his arm was more snugly around her, forcing him to give up the pretext of keeping his lower half away from her.

 

“Rukia…” it was a warning, but she just nestled her bottom into his hips in response.

 

“Just hold me and shut up,” she hissed at him.  “I don’t care about...that.”

 

“You should,” he growled low in her ear.  Goosebumps raised on her flesh.

 

“Hmph,” she answered with a disdain she did not feel.  He was pressed right into her and she gave an experimental wiggle of her hips.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” he choked out, his hand tightened around her and convulsively clutched at her stomach.  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She thought she must have lost her mind, and she wiggled her bottom against him again.

 

He gave up fighting her and held himself stiff and still as she squirmed against him.  It was lovely to be held in his arms. She missed the press of his knee between her thighs, but this position had its merits. Renji remained still and let her move against him.

 

Rukia felt his involuntary response and revelled in her victory.  Defeated, he exhaled heavily and let his fingers begin to trace ever broadening circles on her middle, stroking up toward her breasts -- never quite touching -- and down to her lower belly and back up again.  She rocked her hips back and he leaned in to press open mouthed kisses on her temple, her ear, and her neck. She sighed at this new sensation.

 

One arm lay beneath her, cradling her to him while the other continued its exploratory circuit.  The tie to her cotton robe was loose, and he dipped his hand inside, stroking the silky skin of her stomach, moving up to allow his finger tips to trace the underside of her breasts before moving down to trace the line of her ragged undergarment.  It was maddening.

 

“How are you so soft?” he whispered into her neck.  “You are like silk, white as snow.” She caught her breath and let her head roll back to rest against his shoulder, incapable of answering him.

 

How was he so hard, she wondered.  His muscled torso, his arms and that secret part of him were like iron.  Iron hot from the forge. He burned against her. His hand stroked her reverently, but still he avoided touching anywhere she most wanted him to touch.  She stretched against him, trying to guide him without words.

 

He understood her well enough, and without further pretext, up went his hand to her breasts.  She felt him tremble when he lightly, so lightly, cupped one in his palm. He made an approving noise which had her bucking her hips back into him again.  He kissed her neck again and craned his head over her shoulder, looking down at where her robe gaped open, to try to see clearly what he held in his hand. The light was dim, but she knew he could see well enough.  She could feel the heat of her blush and wondered at it. They had seen each other naked before. At times, like when they were bathing in the river or washing their few clothes, it was nigh unavoidable. But at those times, they discreetly looked away and kept to the business at hand.  This was different. Rukia could not see his face, but she heard his approving murmurs as he stroked first one and then the other. She arched into his hand when he rolled a nipple between his fingers, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He kissed her shoulder, his tongue tracing a wet line to her neck.

 

“Renji,” she sighed.  “Renji, please…” She took his hand and led it down, down to where she burned the hottest, the part of her covered by only the scrap of cotton she used for her undergarment.  He went very still, his hand hovered over her. For the span of five heartbeats, she held her breath, thinking she had gone too far when he groaned and slipped his fingers beneath her underclothes.

 

At first, he let his hand just lay against her and she could feel the frantic thud of his heart against her back, could feel the hard press of him against her behind.  She tilted her hips and with a gentle touch, he began to explore what she had led him to. At heart, he was an opportunist -- he had to be if he expected to survive to the next day -- and now that he had her explicit permission, he took the opportunity to fully discover what she had offered.  

 

His breath was hot against her neck,  as he took his time, slowly and gently exploring her.  His fingers were long and nimble, and he found places that she did not have a name for, places she barely had acquaintance with herself, touching deep inside of her.  His fingers grew slick and the easy slip and glide of his exploration soon had them both breathless. He found a rhythm, coming back to circle the one part of her where all feeling seemed to radiate while he moved his hips against her.  It didn’t take much longer before Rukia was arching her back against him, bringing her hands up to her mouth to cover up the cry that escaped her.

 

Her legs were still shaking when he removed his hand and gently but firmly turned her to her back.  He held himself over her, hesitating, searching her face for something. Permission, perhaps? So in answer, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her soft whimper of excitement.  He lay on her full length, his hips cradled in hers, though still disappointingly covered by his tunic and pants. Before Rukia could do more than consider undressing him, he was stifling his own moan against her lips, his hips moving against hers before he lay still, breathing very hard.

 

She wasn’t sure at first but soon realized that he had come to his own completion when he slid down until his head could rest on her chest, his arms tight around her.

 

“Rukia…” he sighed into the side of her breast.  She felt heavy, sleepy and stupid as she raked her fingers through his hair, now loose from its usual tie.  Yes, this was very dangerous. Her senses were dulled, filled with the feel and the smell of the young man in her arms.  They were wise not to have done this before. Survival depended on keen instincts, and she felt like she were made of lead.  She could not run now if her life depended upon it. And she did not care if it did. If she were to die, this could be a very beautiful death.

 

“Renji,” she said his name softly and petted his hair.  His breaths were coming deeper and slower, and she smiled to think that he could possibly be asleep after such a thing.  He always could fall asleep in the most inconvenient of places.

 

“I wish you had…” she whispered into his hair.

 

“Wish I had what?” He asked in a soft voice.  She started, surprised he was still awake.

 

“I wish you had...you know,” she was amazed she still had the ability to blush, “taken me,” she said in a tiny whisper.

 

He laughed against her skin.  “I think I took you far enough.”  He kissed the side of her breast and heaved another sigh.

 

Rukia’s cheeks were hot with her embarrassment, but she pressed on.  “Even so, I wanted to.”

 

“So did I,” he said quietly, “but I’m glad we did not.”  His hand drifted up to her breast again. With one finger, he drew slow fascinated circles around the ruched pink tip that peaked at his touch.

 

“You deserve better than this,” he told her.  “Better than me.”

 

“Fool,” she lightly slapped the top of his head.  “How dare you. Who is better than you?” She tilted her head to catch his eye with a mischievous smile, “except for me, that is.”

 

“There are plenty in the Seireitei,” Renji told her, not rising to her bait.  “Much better.”

 

He was right in that there were others more powerful, more privileged, but no one could be better for her than him, not like this.

 

“Dumbass,” she said with a sigh and reached down to stroke the side of his face.  

 

“ _Now_ you say it,” he smiled, nuzzling into her.

 

Rukia held him in the circle of her arms and allowed herself to doze, confident that this, that _he_ , was the only thing worth taking with her from this place.  They would leave Inuzuri tomorrow, but they would leave together.  

 

She belonged to him.  He belonged to her.

 

Nothing would ever change that.

  



End file.
